


watch this seedling grow

by UnAmusings



Series: Heaven Blessed [6]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adopted Children, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Reunions, M/M, Married Couple, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 05:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20371600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnAmusings/pseuds/UnAmusings
Summary: Then, Jon remembers Tormund's open arms. Catching him when he fell, or pulling him closer when he struggled. Hands that led him from a place that could have never been his own. Those same arms that had carried a lost little girl to their home all those years ago.





	watch this seedling grow

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the first parts for more fluff!
> 
> Title is from a song I can't remember for the life of me, lol whoops. 
> 
> Unbeta'd! Hope you enjoy!

The sun beats down on them, as relentless as Lova's strike with her axe. Jon parries, sweeping his foot through the dirt to weave under her arm and jab with his dagger. Her responding twist gives him the opening to unarm her with a small sweep of his wooden sword. Losing her balance, she trips over Jon's foot and hits the ground with a thud. 

Wincing, he leans forward. Her eyes are wide open but a pout stays on her lips, even as Jon helped her up. Lova pats down her shirt, dusting off the dirt on her bum while shaking her arms. Ruffling his daughter's hair, Jon places a hand on her shoulder. 

"If you want to do a fancy spin, keep center. Don't leave your chest open," Jon says.

The fifteen-year-old nods, her eyes calculating, "The quickest way to the heart is through the ribs."

"That's my girl," he smiles, "Again."

Lova snatches her axe and wooden sword from the training ground as she crouches into position. With how busy the chiefs' summit had become, Jon had been worried that in all racket, he'd lose time for moments like these. Between the meetings and trade negotiations, he and Tormund were often in opposite places. Between his meeting with the chieftess of Hardhome and the gathering of the chief's and their seconds, Jon had snuck away to make lunch and train.

Not keeping his attention too long off his warrior in training, he glanced to the side. Edur was eating–inhaling really–his food, as Taite took a nap on Ghost's back. 

With barely enough time to evade, Jon sidesteps out of Lova's warpath. Her light feet and deadly precision always gave him a run, even when she was younger. With a mind quick for fighting, Jon could see her knocking down any who bothered her in due time. As they work up their attack, he feels out of breath from the last hours training. Jon jabs at her shoulder, deciding to take the offensive, but she dropped lower. Jon's first instinct was to curl around his middle, but she went for meat of his thigh. 

Awkwardly containing a hiss as her attack landed, he kicks out her left foot to send her sprawling. She belly flops with an _oomph_, a tangle of long limbs and brown hair as it falls on her face.

Deadly as she was, she had much to learn. 

Edur laughs, his food going all over the place just as it did when he was Taite's age. Chicken goes flying as he falls back, his legs kicking in the air. In response to the noise, Taite grumbles, snuggling further into Ghost's fur, the direwolf barely even moving. 

Jon helps Lova to her feet. The kiss to her forehead as he brushes back her hair impulsive while checking her for wounds. Despite the crinkle of her nose, Lova leans into his palm and smiles. 

"Last time I saw you, you were felling tyrants and slaying Wights," the voice startles them all. 

Habit has him pulling his daughter behind his body, as he stares at the unfamiliar person at the edge of the training mound. Something nags at the bag of his mind, urging him forward. With widening eyes, Jon's frown morphs into a grin. 

"Toregg? It can't be, last I saw, you had fuzz for a beard."

The man that steps forward is a near perfect mirror of Tormund. Same broad shoulders and flaming hair, if taller and more youthful. Even his strut is the same, like a beast in man's form, ready to strike and protect in equal measure. Jon rushes forward, grabbing Toregg's outstretched hand to pull him into a hug. 

"And you weren't dumb enough to marry that gasbag when I met you."

Jon rolls his eyes, "After all this time, you'd at least have some respect for him."

"I've got plenty o'respect," Toregg laughs out. "Still an old fart."

His husband's true eldest was a mammoth of muscle, much bigger than when Jon had last seen him. After Winterfell, Toregg had been a newly appointed leader of the tribe resided in the Skirling Pass. Barely eighteen, and grieving from the loss of his mentor, as well as his half-brother, he had taken to being Chief as naturally as breathing. 

Jon couldn't believe over ten years had passed since then. 

A tug to his shirt had him turning to see that his children had bunched behind him. The mix of expressions on each of their faces made Jon snort. Edur's smile was wide, the gaps of missing teeth making it all the more endearing. In contrast, Lova's cynical stare could bore holes into any man's skull. She took her role as big sister to heart, puffing her chest. It was Taite's grasp on her shirt like a hostage that had Jon understanding why. 

"Are those the troublemakers I've heard so much about?" Toregg asks, the wild glint of his blue eyes tell of his Giantsbane blood. 

He kneels down, bringing him eye to eye with his half siblings. Jon watches, wondering where their manners must be. Most of the time they never quiet down. To everyone's surprise, Taite's shaky fingers pull at a strand of Toregg's beard.

The five-year-old giggles, "Just like Papa's."

"Your papa is my papa, too." he explains, "I'm Toregg."

The little one lets go of the hair to wave, "My name's Taite."

Never one to fall behind, Edur steps up. He buzzes with energy, as if he would hop right out of his boots if left unchecked. Jon has no doubt that he would if given the chance. 

"And I'm Edur! I'm nine, and my da is going to train me big and strong like you."

Toregg holds out his hand, face incredibly serious, "Then I look forward to you beating me one day."

Ed squeals, shaking his older brother's hand. The boys seem engrossed by their guest, all their attention focused on a full interrogation. As big and strong as he was, even Toregg is overwhelmed by the fury of two boys under the age of ten. Unfolding like a perfect moment in time, it's interrupted when he realizes there's a missing piece.

When Jon turns to Lova, her breathing is heavy. Her gaze flickers between Toregg and her younger brothers. A glisten makes her eyes shine, though her face stays neutral. Jon feels a slice in his heart.

Memories of days in a castle looking on as his siblings were hugged and kissed without question. The ache of wanting to know the love and affection without pretense. Always with his back against the wall, posture perfect, before being dismissed to his room in a far part of the halls of Winterfell. Years of yearning for a semblance of home in castles with too cold stone, a part of a family while separate. 

Then, Jon remembers Tormund's open arms. Catching him when he fell, or pulling him closer when he struggled. Hands that led him from a place that could have never been his own. Those same arms that had carried a lost little girl to their home all those years ago. 

Just as Jon reaches out to pull her into a hug, Edur turns back to them. His gaze falling on Lova as she trembles silently, her breaths deep but shaky. 

Tapping Toregg on the shoulder, he points to her with a cheesy smirk, "I bet she could cut your legs off. She's the best fighter in her group, but don't tell her, or her head'll get too big! Then she'll be all mean, and mean sisters are _never_ fun."

Air escapes his lungs in a rush of warmth as Jon sees the way she blinks back wetness, her bottom lip wobbling when she smiles. Toregg beckons her forward to join the conversation on the best ways to beat him.

Though he wants to watch every second, Jon begins picking up forgotten practice weapons. The hum of their talking like a slow melody that unwinds his shoulders, as he shoves the swords under his arm. Sunlight shines, breaking through the leaves and casting shadows on the ground. Slowly but surely, the training ground is left as it had once been. Only Ghost is left, still sleeping under the tree, like a giant pile of snow among the green. 

Packing away the last of lunch, commotion stirs behind him. Whipping his head around leaves him dizzy, but walking up to the bundle of siblings is Tormund. In his arms a baby that babbles and shrieks, while a woman keeps pace and plays with the babe's toes. He looks so natural with the little one in his arms, Jon aches.

From where he stands, Jon can not hear the words exchanged between long departed father and son. The baby in Tormund's arms reaches out to Toregg. Watching the way chubby fingers curl around the young man's thumb as he scooped her up, Jon gasps. The woman pecks Toregg on the lips, before turning to the trio of kids. Giggling and laughter carries on the wind, washing over him. 

Alone in the shade of the white elm, Jon allows himself to curl a hand over the slight swell of his belly. A barely there bump, proof of one last effort to expand their family of jagged pieces. He wishes that Munda and Torwynd were here, together in one place like a dream come true. But, the liveliness of everyone, even the ones he had yet to meet, has him settling back on his heels. 

Jon doesn't flinch when an arm curls around his waist. Simply sways to the motion when his husband pulls him in. 

"Deep in thought?" Tormund mutters, tracing from Jon's temple to the top of his head with his nose, leaving kisses along the way.

"Just happy."

He led one of Tormund's hands to his stomach. The jilted intake of air is all Jon needs to know. Even so, he is wrapped in long limbs, and smothered in affection. 

Hand in hand, Tormund leads him forward, the goofiest smile on his face "Come meet Toregg's wife and daughter."

Jon nods, following his giant without question–he doubts he ever would. 

Rejoining the group, Edur hops onto his Papa's back, while Taite is held by Lova. The conversation is quick, not even a beat lost as he introduces himself. A flurry of voices and introductions swirl together in a whirlwind of sound.

Smiling, he is reminded of long days in a castle, filled with cold stares and echoing halls. The silence so deafening, that Jon had been afraid to breathe. How those memories are long lost to something better. Compared to banquet halls and rolling feasts, sunlight and the laughter of his family were priceless.

**Author's Note:**

> Grandbaby! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
> 
> I just realized Tormund currently has six kids. Like the first three were planned, and then came Edur, Lova, and Taite. Finally on track with one more planned kid lmao. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr and send me prompts, [_@unamusing-s_](https://unamusing-s.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
